


The Trenchcoat

by glowydean



Series: Hello, Stranger [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Beer, Bible, Cars, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Dean Praying, Emo Dean, M/M, Motels, Pie, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowydean/pseuds/glowydean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel seemingly dies, Dean cannot seem to let go of the stupid, dirty, old trenchcoat.  Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trenchcoat

For the love of God and all that is holy on heaven and earth, Dean Winchester cannot seem to let go of the trenchcoat.  It follows him around everywhere like a shabby ghost with threads sticking out, (which reminded him of Castiel’s hair when he first saw him), with it’s frayed and worn edges, (which reminded him for some reason of Castiel’s gravelly voice and the way he said his name which wasn’t supposed to make him feel all tingly and weird on the inside but it  _did_ ).  

Dean drives around in several different cars and each time, (usually when Sam is not looking because that would be weird) he places the carefully folded garment into the trunk where it has somehow claimed it’s own space next to his guns, and his knives and his hex bags and basically all of the other things that kept him alive because when he really thought about it, when he really,  _really_  thought about it, he realized, much to his surprise that Castiel, Castiel and his stupid blue eyes that looked like the blue you see in commercials for island getaways, Castiel with his stupid messy hair and his dirty old trenchcoat and his stupid blue tie had somehow  _kept him alive_.  

Sam never said anything about the trenchcoat.  He simply moved around it, accepted it for what it was and Dean, who would never bring something like this up with his brother, was glad that Sam kept his mouth shut for once.  Although, a small part of him wished that Sam  _would_ just bring it up so he could yell and scream and get angry about everything and then tearfully admit that he had fallen in love with a nerdy angel who was probably dead because of him and then Sam would maybe lend him that stupid hoodie of his so he could sulk around in it for a couple days.  But that was a very small part of Dean Winchester, one that he could control and keep quiet and so he knew that it would never happen.  

Tonight, they’re in some grubby motel room that looks and smells just like all the others.  Sam is typing away on his laptop and Dean flips through an old copy of the Bible that he found in his bedside table’s drawer.  

“I’m gonna go grab a couple beers.  Need anything?” he asks.  

Sam looks up and shakes his head.  ”I’m good,” he says.  

“Alright, I’ll be back,” Dean says.  Before he leaves, he grabs his car keys and stuffs them into his pocket.  

Ten minutes later, he walks out of the small mini-mart with a six pack in one hand and a pie in the other.  He places his loot on top of the car and then he slowly walks around to the trunk, his boots crunching on the gravel.  He inserts the key into the lock and a moment later, the trunk is open and he is staring down at the trenchcoat and he suddenly wishes that he had bought tequila instead of beer.  

Tenderly, he lifts the trenchcoat and he brings it up to his face.  He feels the softness of it in his hands and he lets out a big breath of air that he had been holding.  He feels a lump form in his throat as he smells the familiar smell of Cas, mingling in with the smells of whatever the hell had been in the trunk.  It’s faint but it’s still there and that’s all that he needs.  He brings the material closer to his face and he closes his eyes.  He allows himself to let go for a moment, imagining that Castiel is there with him and he feels tears burn in his eyes.  

He needs this, every now and then, to bring himself back.  He folds the coat and places it back into the trunk.  He looks up into the dark sky, at the stars, and he wishes more than anything that he could see Cas again, even if it was only for a minute or two.  He closes his eyes and he knows what he will do next.

“Ah, Cas, I don’t know if you can hear me…I just…I really miss you, buddy,” he says.  ”I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for…not getting you out of there,” he says bitterly.  ”But if you can hear me…I miss you, okay?  If that’s what you want to hear.  If that’s what it takes to get you back,” he says.  

He opens his eyes and looks around, hoping, praying, that Castiel will be there, but of course, he knows, that he will not be.  HIs heart sinks when he realizes that he is still alone and he looks down at the folded garment in the trunk.  

“I guess it’s just you and me,” he says softly.  He slams the trunk down, grabs his beer and his pie and heads back to the motel.  

When he gets back, Sam looks up from the computer.  ”Got everything you need?” he asks.  

Dean forces a smile onto his face and lifts the beer and the pie.  ”Beer, pie, what more could a guy want?” he asks. 

Sam shrugs.  ”I guess,” he says.  

Dean sits on the bed and turns on the TV.  He looks down at his hands which had only moments ago, held onto Castiel’s coat for dear life and he sighs.  

“Everything okay?” Sam asks.  

Dean pushes yet another false grin onto his face and digs into his pie.  

“Everything’s fine, Sammy,” he lies.  He takes a sip of his beer and hopes, for the love of all that is holy on heaven and earth that Sam believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Just felt like writing a little something, something.


End file.
